


Deleted Scene: Best Gift Ever!

by paladin_cleric_mage



Series: My Heroes Had the Heart [13]
Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-15
Updated: 2018-12-15
Packaged: 2019-09-18 12:48:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,482
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16995288
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/paladin_cleric_mage/pseuds/paladin_cleric_mage
Summary: Corresponds to chapter 82





	Deleted Scene: Best Gift Ever!

The fall semester of 1993 just wrapped. 

Everyone graduated with their Bachelor’s in May, but come fall Dustin was still studying at Berkeley. Master’s degree, then maybe a thesis, whatever strikes his fancy. He’s hoping to wedge into Silicon Valley somehow. It’s possible, he theorizes, to combine virtual reality technology and sensory deprivation— or alteration— to travel to different dimensions and subsequently, inhabit different versions of ourselves.

To celebrate the end of finals week before flying home, Dustin convinces his housemates to take a road trip out to San Francisco. It's only an hour drive, and they hotbox the whole time. It's worth all the risks that comes along with it. Who cares about getting pulled over when _this city_ is where they get to arrive? High, nonetheless! As far as Dustin’s concerned, he's living the dream. It’s the best post-finals getaway he could imagine. Tomorrow he’ll pack his shit into a large suitcase and board the plane home. Not that he isn’t thrilled about the idea of being back home for the holidays; he is, but he doesn’t have this type of reckless freedom in Hawkins.

They end up at a skatepark. Justin Herman Plaza, in front of this big building near the water. Dustin has no idea what it’s for. The place seems cool, though, and the skaters seem revolutionary. They’re dressed like punks, but not the crazy UK kind from those bands Jonathan never shuts up about. More like misfits in hand me downs, shoes busted open at the pinkie toes. Kids varying from elementary school to college level are weathered and wild, working together on tricks or vibing in their own zone.  As they skate around the plaza pulling stunts and critiquing each other’s form, Dustin notices SFPD officers around, most coming from the Embarcadero side of the plaza. He’s sitting with his buddy near a fountain with some ugly ass sculpture in it. Apparently U2 put it there in ‘87. Who the hell agreed to that? They chat, laughing at their friends attempting to skate.

Then a girl zooms by, too fast to see clearly. Dustin sees a shock of red hair plaited down her back. It reminds him of someone, and out of nostalgia he watches, stupidly hoping she’ll zoom by again. Finally she does. She's a tan girl with thick hips, wearing only jeans and a tank top even though San Francisco is chillier than one might think. She’s got a dimpled scar visible just to the side of her tank top strap. She kicks the board into a jump and spins. On her back there is a similar scar. It almost looks like an exit wou--

“Max!?”

She turns her head at the sound, then recognizes him and topples off her board. Dustin jumps up and rushes to her, but she’s already back on her feet. The forgotten board rolls over to the fountain and halts.  “Dustin? Like, Dustin  _ Henderson _ ? Is that you?”

He distracted her and now her shoulder is scraped pink, so he’s a little nervous to admit, “Same bard, different place.”

There’s a hint of an eye roll, and then her arms wrap around him and yank him in. He’s taller than her by a few inches-- perfect hugging height. She says, “I thought I was tripping."

“Me, too. I’ve been blazed all day.”

She pulls away, shocked. “You smoke?”

“Uh, you  _ don ’t _ _?_ Last time I checked this is California.”

“Faulty logic, nerd,” she laughs. “Wait, are you still a nerd? What are you even doing out here?”

He points to his sweatshirt. “UC Berkeley, baby! Trying to break the laws of physics.”

“Of course you are.”

“What about you?”

Tipping her chin toward the lonely Kamikaze board, she says, “I went pro last year. Got featured in  _ Thrasher _  this July.”

His jaw drops. “You’re  _ that _ good?”

“You’re really going to question my God-given talent?”

He’s grinning like a fool when he pulls a cigarette tin out of his pocket and opens it enough for her to see a rolled joint. “Wanna go sit somewhere and catch up?”

* * *

Some time later they’re toked to the tenth degree, walking slowly along some street where Max promised the SFPD won’t see them.

“What are the chances, right? I still think about you guys. How’s El?”

“She wrote to you. So did Lucas, but you stopped replying at the start of high school.”

“It wasn’t intentional. Well, I guess in some ways it was. It hurt talking to you guys when I knew I wouldn’t see you again. But everything got ruined anyway.” She pauses and passes the joint back to him. There’s only a few hits left. She tells him, “My dad relapsed sophomore year. He was cooking one night, totally wasted, and he set the house on fire.”

He chokes on smoke and disbelief. “Are you kidding me?”

“Wish I was. I lost everything, and… Well, I ended up being put into foster care until I was eighteen. The couple I live with, though, they’re meant to be parents. I’m their only one right now, because the last kid they fostered is already grown.”

He offers her the butt of the joint and she waves him off. One last hit and he drops it to the ground. “They treat you right?” 

“Yeah, they’re a big reason why I went pro. After losing the last parts of my childhood, and all of your contact information, I was constantly angry.” She sighs, “You know I never wanted to be that way.”

“I know.” He follows her lead as she turns them back around toward the plaza. “You don’t seem angry now, though.”

“Because I’m not. I swear, they knew what to do. The first week living with them I punched a hole in my bedroom wall, ripped out chunks of my hair, and screamed until I was hoarse. When Tim approached me to calm me down I hid underneath the dining room table. Finally I was exhausted enough to have a conversation, and I told them how much I loved skating. They got me a board and encouraged me to skate my anger away. That’s how we started to built trust.”

He nods, walking close beside her. Although this hasn’t killed his high, it’s put him in a completely different headspace. “I’m glad they found you.”

“Me, too.” She notices the gold chain looping around the back of his neck. “So, he’s out of prison, right?”

It takes a second to realize. He asks, “Do you really want to hear about Billy?”

She grimaces, then relaxes her face. “I think I need to know how it ends.”

“First off, it hasn’t ended yet. He did his six years in prison, though. The Byers visited a lot. Especially Will. He and Billy are friends, which—” he sees Max’s confusion “— I know, it’s the weirdest shit, but whatever. It works somehow. Billy came to stay with them the day he got released.” She  cocks her head. He clarifies, “He didn’t stay. Actually, between his general cowardice and being deathly afraid of El, he ran away in the night and spent an entire year whoring around and shooting heroin.”

Her jaw falls open. “Heroin?”

“Don’t sound so disappointed. This _is_ Billy we’re talking about.”

“I’ve… seen what that does to people.”

Dustin doesn't question that. Instead he moves into the happy part. “October of last year he came back to Hawkins, and he’s been sober ever since. He sees a therapist and takes meds, and I never thought I’d say this, but he’s literally a different person.”

“You talk to him?”

“Not actual conversations.”

“Then how do you know he’s changed?”

He sorts out words in his mind. “When I’m over at their house, I see how he is. And his eyes. They were always pretty, you know? But if you looked closely there was something feral behind them. They’re different now.”

“How?”

“He’s not angry anymore, and he— I dunno, he just  _ cares _ .”

Max is stunned and says nothing. They walk a few more paces, and Dustin notices she’s crying. “Hey, hey, hey, come here.” He touches her shoulder and folds her into a strong embrace. She cries for a long time. Her hair smells of smoke and incense, and her chest is plush and warm against his. He missed her.

Eventually she pulls back and wipes her eyes. Freckles are layered across her nose and cheeks. “Thanks. It’s seriously good to see you.”

“Seriously. Not to sound cliche, but we should do this again sometime.”

She smiles. “Agreed.”

Soon they return to the plaza, where Max’s buddy has her board. Dustin rounds up his housemates and together the skaters and nerds stroll through the streets in search of food. Before dinner’s over, they all exchange numbers on napkins. Dustin will sleep good tonight, knowing that Max is safe, and only an hour drive away.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Magazine Credit: Thrasher, 1981


End file.
